Seven Minutes in Heaven
by Syldana
Summary: [Shounen ai] TezuRyo. TezukaxRyoma. Seven Minutes in Heaven. Does this really need an explanation? [complete]


**Disclaimer**: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi and other people who are not me.

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**Seven Minutes in Heaven**

Ryoma didn't know why, exactly, he'd done it. For that matter, why was he even playing this stupid game in the first place?

It was likely that dismissive thing Fuji had said, insinuating he was still a child, or perhaps it was merely the way the older boy had said it. Either way, the challenge had been artfully made and Ryoma had stubbornly, idiotically, accepted. However, when his turn rolled around and the time had come to actually choose the person to go in the closet with him…

That girl, the one with the ridiculously long hair, had immediately turned scarlet, the expression on her face hopeful and eager. The other one, her annoying, overly-loud friend, had beamed at him confidently, a shrewd, predatory gleam in her eye. Ryoma had quickly suppressed a shudder, his gaze darting anxiously about for someone, _anyone_, else.

Fuji's habitual smile was tinged with knowing amusement as Ryoma's eyes swept over him. Kikumaru and Momoshiro were laughing openly at him. Kawamura didn't appear to be paying him any notice at all. Kaidoh and Oishi looked embarrassed by the whole sordid game. Inui was scrupulously observing his every reaction. Tezuka was also watching him intently; though exactly what was going on behind that austere facade, Ryoma could not even begin to guess. Still, he had found something oddly reassuring within the depths of that unfathomable gaze.

When Tezuka's name came tumbling awkwardly from his lips, however, those hazel eyes of his had gone extraordinarily wide. It was then that Ryoma realized he had just made a terribly serious mistake. The implications of what he had done were just now starting to sink in. For all intents and purposes, he had basically just made a public announcement that the person he most wanted to kiss in the room was Tezuka-buchou.

The silence in the wake of his clumsy declaration was all-encompassing, and Ryoma could hear his heart beating loudly and erratically as he stepped with practiced nonchalance into the awaiting closet. At least he could hide his face in there, which he was fairly certain was beginning to color a mortifying shade of red.

This whole thing was totally lame because Tezuka most assuredly wasn't about to follow. The Seigaku captain hadn't been so stupid as to get himself involved in this silly game. Ryoma wondered how he was going to save face after it was over. He didn't think he'd be able to look Tezuka in the eye again anytime soon.

Maybe he could explain it to him, how he had felt cornered, and how he simply trusted Tezuka to help him out. After all, it wasn't as if he truly wanted to kiss him. He didn't actually want to kiss anyone. Which was why—

The door shut abruptly behind him.

Ryoma whirled immediately around and blinked wide-eyed into the shadowy darkness. There was just enough light streaming in through the cracks of the doorway to distinguish the tall, familiar silhouette standing before him.

Tezuka-buchou.

But… why?

Ryoma frowned slightly in bewilderment. Was Tezuka trying to save him from embarrassment or something? Except the repercussions of this were going to be even more embarrassing, now, in his opinion. Everyone would think…

His cheeks burned hotter.

He couldn't see Tezuka's face, not that he'd be able to read it all that well, even if he could. Most of the time he was able to tell exactly what the other boy was thinking, but in a situation such as this…

At the moment, Ryoma didn't even know what he, himself, was thinking. Why wasn't he saying anything to Tezuka? He should be explaining or scoffing in irritation at this stupid game or something, not… not just be standing there like an idiot, the entire surface of his skin prickling curiously with this weird, annoying heat.

Why wasn't Tezuka saying anything, either? Was _he_ embarrassed? Was he angry?

Che, this was making him crazy! He should just speak up, just brush it all off with a derisive laugh. Surely that's what Tezuka was waiting for? He couldn't actually think… he couldn't actually be waiting for…

…could he?

The heat seared deeper into his flesh, which had some time ago begun to shiver.

The shadow took a small, deliberate step forward. Closer. And suddenly there were fingers sliding gently over Ryoma's cheek, weaving deftly into his hair. Ryoma gaped wordlessly as the figure neared, slowly bending down… down…

Oh… so incredibly soft. He'd never dreamed Tezuka could be so soft. Tezuka's lips pressed against his so lightly, so gingerly; it was as if he thought Ryoma might break or he was afraid of doing it wrong. Ryoma didn't know if it was right or not, but he was quite positive he wasn't going to break. Pushing upward with his toes, Ryoma leaned instinctively into the kiss, his arm curling around Tezuka's neck for balance and to draw their mouths closer together. He more felt than heard Tezuka's small gasp of surprise against his lips, but then the boy's other hand curved around Ryoma's back and pulled him snug into the warmth of his chest.

Their mouths moved slowly, rhythmically, together, carefully learning the unique feel and motion of the other. And then Tezuka licked him. His tongue actually swept across Ryoma's lips, all wet and warm and Ryoma didn't know what to think as his mind went blank and the tongue slipped further into his mouth.

Tezuka tasted strange. But strange in a good way, Ryoma decided as their tongues glided sensually against one another. Strange and exotic and wet and warm and, wow, his breathing was really starting to become ragged. His fingers clutched at Tezuka's hair, holding him down or himself up; he wasn't quite sure which. It didn't really matter, though, just as long as Tezuka remained right there within reach as Ryoma moved to explore every nook and crevice of his mouth.

He truly was fascinating. Everything about him was. Always had been, ever since Ryoma had first met him. Tezuka's entire demeanor bespoke strength and conviction and complete self-possession. Even before they had played, Ryoma had known Tezuka would be a formidable opponent, and not because everyone had told him so. He could see it in the very air around the Seigaku tennis captain from day one. Ryoma usually lost interest in people less than a minute into the conversation. With Tezuka, there didn't even need to be a conversation and Ryoma was always intrigued. All of this, the taste and scent and feel of him, was simply other aspects of Tezuka that Ryoma wanted to discover. And bask in. Forever.

Reveling silently in the warm, pleasurable sensations, Ryoma wondered absently if Tezuka might actually let him, since he was letting him now. Surely Tezuka was enjoying this as much as he was. The tender caress of his hand and the forceful stroke of his tongue were quite the convincing arguments, plus he didn't seem to be in any real hurry to stop, either. Unfortunately, the people waiting outside had a different agenda.

The knock came sharp and loud, instantly breaking them apart as if violently torn. Ryoma heaved deeply to catch his breath. Then a muffled voice came through the door.

"Your seven minutes are up, ready or not!"

That was all the warning they had before the door was flung wide open. Fuji's smile was wickedly brilliant in the lamplight as it poured mercilessly into the closet. Ryoma quickly averted his gaze, looking down and blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the abrupt illumination. He was only able to steal a few precious moments to gather his composure, though he was sure it wasn't anywhere near enough. When he glanced back up, Tezuka had already turned and was walking out. As usual, he was the very epitome of calm, cool and collected. Squelching a sigh of frustration, Ryoma trailed mutely after him.

An awkward silence greeted them as they made their back to their respective places. Ryoma ignored the astonished looks and inquiring stares as he plopped unceremoniously back down on the floor where he had been previously sitting. Momoshiro immediately leaned over and nudged him with an elbow.

"Hey, Echizen, did you really…?" Momoshiro's eyebrows rose suggestively.

"Yeah, Ochibi! We want details, nya!"

"Eiji!" Oishi admonished softly, as if the act of speaking aloud was actually causing him physical pain. "I'm sure nothing happened. We just put Echizen on the spot. And Tezuka would never… right, Tezuka?"

Tezuka merely reached for the bottle of water he had left behind on the counter and took a long, evasive drink. For all of his usual, seasoned impassivity, however, the flush of color upon his cheeks was rather unmistakable.

Damn, he looked good. The taste of him still lingered provocatively on Ryoma's tongue. The sudden interruption still had him inwardly peeved.

"Hey, Buchou," he said abruptly, before anyone else chimed in with something stupid. "Want to come over to my house?"

Tezuka blinked at him in surprise. "You mean now?" he asked, his inflection sounding a bit tentative and uneasy.

"Yeah," Ryoma said, unable to halt the small, satisfied grin from curving his lips. "There won't be any time restrictions there."

He hadn't believed it possible for Tezuka to go completely red. Oh, the things he was learning about him today…

"All right," Tezuka replied, his deep voice remarkably steady in light of his obvious discomfort.

Ryoma's grin grew significantly brighter.


End file.
